Without Frontiers
by Crimson Bttrfly
Summary: "Every name demands a grand adventure, Little Lord. What's yours?" And, just like that, she stopped him dead in his tracks and dragged him into her wondrous imaginary world.


**Summary:** "Every name demands a grand adventure, Little Lord. What's yours?" And, just like that, she stopped him dead in his tracks and dragged him into her wondrous imaginary world.

**Disclaimer:** I neither own the rights to _Bleach _nor do I profit from it commercially.

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><p><strong>Without Frontiers<strong>

She was sitting where she always sat, which was on a tree branch. Her legs dangled off the edge, her ankles were crossed, and she was sitting in the attitude that she always assumed, which was one of crafty confidence. Her eyes were bright and violet; they burned like twin amethysts in the golden dusk sunlight. Her thoughts? Likely, her thoughts were fixed on some new adventure. It was her specialty, after all—adventure-crafting. Hisana was a Grade-A weaver of tales. Her mind was always working on another yarn to spin. She lived for the adventure and for the imaginary lands and plots that only she could write with such feverish excitement.

Somehow, someway, she had pulled him into her strange mythical world. What was it? Two years ago? No, _three_ years ago, he ran across her in the forest. She donned the black and white silks of the ranks, but she was small, with large clever eyes and a quirk to her mouth that gave away her playful nature in an instant. She was younger, then. She was younger than him. Or, at least, she died in the World of the Living at a young age—early adolescence. Maybe she was ten when she perished? She never revealed her number, always feigning ignorance as to all things regarding her former life. Age? Said she didn't know. Birthday? Didn't know that one, either. Surname? Didn't have one, and she very coolly stated she wasn't going to make one up for the sake of propriety. All she knew was her first name—Hisana.

He very much suspected "Hisana" wasn't her first name. It sounded too…_poetic_…for a commoner. It sounded like one of those fictitious names that she came up with on the spur of the moment, like The Great Demon King, or the Artic Fox, or the Blind Just, or The Great Big Nothing. She came up with all of those names and many more, and she created a story for each one.

'Every name demands a grand adventure, Little Lord. What's yours?'

And, just like that, she stopped him dead and dragged him into her wondrous imaginary world.

It wasn't just the words that did it. No. It was the way she _said_ it. She spoke with such fiery conviction. It was the kind of conviction of which he could only _dream_ of possessing. It was like a wildfire ripping loose across his whole body. Electric zapping pulses cracked under his skin like a livewire.

Sometimes, he wondered how she slept burdened under such great conviction. Maybe she didn't? He wouldn't doubt it.

"Little Lord!" she cried upon first glimpsing him. Without a second thought or word, she sprang from her branch and dropped to the leafy forest floor.

He hated _that_.

_Little Lord_.

He wanted to scoff at the sobriquet that she selected just for him. He was the _Little Lord_ of her _Great New Wonderful_. He took solace in that she was merely the _Guide_, which seemed decidedly less interesting than _anything_ she had ever imagined. Although, given their relative statuses it made sense. She was only a lowborn foot solider of the Gotei 13, and he was the scion of one of the most esteemed and privileged lineages of Soul Society. So, it wasn't as if she _could_ fashion a better role for herself. No. She could never be a Princess, Lady, or Countess when she played with him. It couldn't be helped, he supposed. Even her fantastical living fairytale had to obey _the rules_.

"Monster hunting?" she asked, brows up and smile on. There was a hopeful look gleaming in her eyes that bested his reservations.

"Monster hunting," he murmured, and, with his consent, they were off to the races.

He was faster than she was, a fact that he always forgot and summarily _had_ _to remember_ while waiting near a large weeping cherry tree. It was lush and verdant in summer. It was even prettier in spring, dripping with the palest pink blossoms in the whole Seireitei. It was the forest's crown jewel, and it was their Palace Stronghold. They had countless little adventures and countless miniature disasters near that tree. He had fallen and broken an arm last summer, and, early winter, she had skinned her knee so badly that she required sutures from the Fourth.

Nothing really deterred them, though. Not the rain, the snow, the fog, the cold, or the heat. They came when they had the time. Mostly, their schedules synched, or, at least, it _seemed_ that way. It was convenient happenstance that Hisana's post was with the Sixth—his family's division—and he had the division's schedule committed to memory.

When he couldn't meet her, she did plenty of adventuring without him, or so he imagined. When he came and she wasn't there, he "adventured," which meant he wandered the forest in silence. A grave, meaningful silence. He took the time to meditate on important thoughts—like poetry and literature and law. In truth, he wished she was there to keep his thoughts from the deluge of responsibilities that his family foisted upon him.

"Do you _feel_ that?" Suddenly, Hisana perked up and her voice went deathly quiet, becoming all scratchy, breathy whispers.

Stuffing a few bites of dried fruit into his mouth, he serenely lifted his head. He felt _nothing_. No sudden shifts. No unexplainable auras. Not a thing. Figuring that Hisana was in the throes of some great subplot—demons, monsters, and myth-making—he continued to quietly chew the stiff fruit bits, nodding.

Adroitly, she crawled across a slender branch, careful not to make a sound. "It's a spy!" she announced. Her voice was a cross between a whisper and a shout.

He turned to watch her youthful exuberance, playing along. She enjoyed making up stories about The Great Demon King's minions. Most of these stories centered on the Artic Fox and the Blind Just, but _spies_? That was a new one.

Dipping her head down, off the edge of the branch, he watched her short black hair fall forward from her shoulders. "No," she whispered back at him. "It's something else."

Without provocation, he jerked up at the prickle of another's reiatsu. It was vaguely familiar—some soul he had met once or twice before—but he couldn't quite place it.

"It's small, bespectacled, and holding a rather large book," she said before throwing her weight back until she was in seated position, straddling the branch.

He glanced down to find a small female Shinigami standing at the bole of the tree. "It is Nanao Ise." Her father served under his family's banner as an accountant. He had met her on several occasions. Her head was always buried in some giant tome, and she seemed mostly disinterested in the affairs of adults.

"Let's make friends!" A wildfire radiated in Hisana's eyes; its flame and heat tore through her so quickly that, before he could speak a word to the contrary, she had dismounted the branch and was already in the midst of introductions.

Hisana was good at those things—making friends. She smiled and giggled, and there was a warmth to her that he couldn't quite put to words. She was like the wildflowers that brought the butterflies.

Hisana flung an arm his direction and made a wide sweeping gesture with her arm. "This is Lord Kuchiki. Wanna play?"

So much for introductions.

Nanao, who was a few decades his junior, startled upon realizing who stood before her. Immediately, she snapped her book closed, pressed it tightly against her chest, and gave a big, deep bow. "Lord Kuchiki," she said, voice broken over the jagged edges of etiquette.

He frowned at her.

Nothing broke Hisana's spell like _formality_. Or _interlopers_.

"Please, forgive my insolence, Lord Kuchiki. I wasn't—" Before Nanao had the _opportunity_ to continue, Hisana interrupted her groveling with a small huff.

"No need to apologize. Everyone is equal in the Eighty Kingdoms." Hisana opened her arms in a gesture of warm welcome.

Nanao, however, stared at Hisana, slack-jawed and utterly confused. "What?" Obviously, that _was not_ true. Among the 80 districts, there was a harsh hierarchy with a very clear top and bottom. Byakuya's family resided at the top. Nanao's family was somewhere in the middle. And Hisana? Being from the 78th District—well—she was at the _bottom_. The _very_ bottom. Byakuya had _servants_ who were above Hisana in the stratified land that was Soul Society.

But that was the Eighty _Districts_—that was _Soul Society_—Hisana would often protest. The _Eighty Kingdoms_, however, was a classless society. No one was no better or no worse than anybody else.

Byakuya never questioned it, even if he found it somewhat unsettling. Of course, there _must_ be a hierarchy, he would often think to himself. How else could a society work? Who would be the serving class? Surely, those who serve are below those whom are _served_? He kept these thoughts and many more to himself. If he was willing to submit to Hisana's fanciful tales, he could afford her some latitude given their relative social positions.

"Who are you?" Nanao nervously pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. It was obvious that she didn't buy Hisana's story, but she was respectful (or fearful) enough to ignore the brain-melting logic for now.

"Oh, I'm Hisana." In her usual exuberant manner, Hisana bowed low. "I'm the Guide."

Nanao gave a long, cautious nod of her head. "Oh."

"Wanna play with us?"

Byakuya folded his arms against his chest and sighed. He didn't particularly _want_ to play with Nanao. Nanao was a _baby_. Sure, she was a Shinigami, but she was also a _kid_. She'd only hold them back. Hisana was slow enough as it was. Little Nanao's baby legs _definitely_ weren't going to keep up with them.

A big gulp and an anxious glance later, and Nanao gave her answer. "Ok."

"Oooh," Hisana cooed, eying the tome cradled in Nanao's arms. "That must be the Book of Light and Shadows."

Nanao stared up at Hisana, perplexed. "Ugh." Her protest was meek and easily ignored.

"Yes, it's _just_ the book of _spells_ we need to defeat the Great Demon King and his minions, the Blind Just and the Artic Fox!"

This time Nanao's lips parted but no sound came out.

Yep. Byakuya knew that feeling. You just had to let go. When you did, it all made sense.

Hisana, however, was _superb _at reading hesitation, and she continued weaving her tale. "Yes! They want to turn the Eighty Kingdoms into A Great Big Nothing! We must stop them, and I think your Book of Light and Shadows will help us do just that." Excitement spilled from Hisana's voice and constitution. It was infectious, and, slowly but surely, Nanao's defensive posture began to wane.

"I see," the young Shinigami said and gave a small nod of her head. "Where do we find the Great Demon King?" Her head lulled to the side as she considered the graveness of Hisana's words.

"He's everywhere, always. He has eyes and ears in the forest." Hisana gave a wide sweeping motion with her arm. "He's got Soldiers of Havoc in all of the kingdoms."

"What does he look like?" Ever so slightly, Nanao's body began to lean forward, as if she is slowly becoming absorbed into the folds of Hisana's great imagination.

"He looks like a gentleman. Perfectly harmless, with a kind smile. You wouldn't know it if you saw him, but he's a wolf in sheep's clothing."

"Sounds dangerous."

Hisana gave a sharp nod of her head. "Yep. You don't see him coming until he and his minions have you in their clutches."

And from that day forward their pair turned into a trio.

The three played until the "Darkening," as Hisana called it. The Darkening was the moment that every sliver of golden sunlight vanished into the velvety blues and blacks of night. Hisana did not like to be in the forest after the Darkening. She never revealed why, though.

Byakuya always assumed that Hisana had sustained a severe injury at some point at night in the forest. It must have been pretty bad, he thought because Hisana wasn't the sort to back down from much. Either way, they went their separate ways around eight-o'-clock that night.

Hisana returned to the Sixth's Barracks.

Nanao took the path leading to the Eighth.

And, he walked the roads to Kuchiki Estate, where he took solace in the warm, golden embrace of the manor's lantern lit rooms and corridors. Nary a monster to be found, if you excepted the clan elders, who prowled the halls at various intervals.

There was a meeting of some sort. Aunts, Uncles, and distant relations had gathered for the evening, and, _apparently,_ he should have, too. His father was more forgiving than either his body servant or his grandfather.

"He forgot," Father murmured in his patented conciliatory intonations. "He's a boy."

Yes, Father had always been his biggest advocate. He was always _forgetting things_ and behaving _improperly_. He had long since given up the various ways he failed his duty as second in line to the helm of the Kuchiki empire.

"He is old enough to remember these things, Sōjun."

Neither Grandfather nor Father had seen him lingering outside the room. Byakuya was still debating whether or not to make his presence known.

"He wasn't necessary. He's just a child. He wouldn't understand the clan affairs just yet, and no one would take his opinions or judgments seriously. Better leave him to his whimsy. He'll have the rest of his days to worry after the family."

Byakuya could almost hear Grandfather _frown_ at Father's logic.

There was a long silence.

"We will need to groom him soon, Sōjun." The words hung heavy in the air, like a threat. A sharp, piercing threat.

"Yes, Father."

. . . .

Days passed. Long, rainy days. Byakuya was trapped at the estate. The diverted river that ran through the garden outside his room had swollen to perilous levels, and his servants refused to chance his safety.

He wrote letters to Hisana. They began as short updates, then, as his confinement grew to unacceptable levels, the letters grew longer and longer. He wrote so many words. So many thoughts.

He never sent them.

He wanted to. He did, but….

Staring at the tower of paper stacked neatly on his desk, Byakuya sighed. His brows furrowed. His heart sank. He paced a tight circle in the middle of the floor.

She would enjoy the letters. He was certain of this. But….

Sometimes, he felt exposed and vulnerable. The fact that he thought about her when he was detained unnerved him. She was just a girl. A common girl. She wasn't a suitable affiliation. But, yet, he craved her presence. Her cheerful demeanor and offbeat humor staved back the boredom. With a smile and a tale hanging from her lips, she cured him of an otherwise intractable loneliness. There was only one other soul in the world who could do the same, and he didn't particularly like _that_ soul.

"Missing the Lady, milord?"

Seated at the door and staring out into the rain, Byakuya turned to his body servant and made a face. "I would _never_ miss _that_ shrew."

The body servant gave a knowing smile. "Of course, milord." The words fell unfelt and stale from the servant's mouth.

Byakuya didn't particularly care for the servants' editorializing. He didn't like Yoruichi Shihōin, no matter how much anyone said otherwise. She was a demon, through and through. No one of virtue associated with her.

"Then, I suppose you would not accept her call." Politely, the servant bowed before him before proffering a sealed letter. The Shihōin crest was proudly embossed in wax.

Byakuya gave a small noncommittal groan. And, like that, he consented to Yoruichi's call.

. . . .

Hisana stared up into the gray sky. Rain fell thick as blankets over the Seireitei, and she only had the protection of a cheaply crafted umbrella to keep her dry. How she missed the forest. Usually, when it wasn't _pouring_, she would brave the rain to play in that lush woods. But the lightening and drenching storms kept her locked away at the Sixth.

"Hisana?"

The voice was instantly familiar, and Hisana whorled around to greet the person at the end of it. With a wide, bright smile, she bowed. "Vice Captain Kuchiki," she said to the slick stones staring up at her. "Good afternoon."

"It is raining. What madness drives you into this weather?"

Straightening her back, she answered his question with a cheery, "I love to watch the rain, sir. It looks like liquid diamonds."

Sōjun Kuchiki lifted his head at her explanation. His expression, mild but unreadable, broke for an instant, as if her words had summoned a pleasant memory. "You remind me of my son, Hisana. He stares for _hours_ at the sky when it rains."

"Lord Byakuya?" her voice raised an octave at the thought of her playmate.

Sōjun cocked his head at her informality. "Yes, Byakuya. Are you acquainted?" The idea that the two children had met each other seemed to pique his interest, and Hisana was all too keen to oblige his curiosity.

"Yes, sir. We patrol the forests outside the Thirteenth."

He smiled at this, as if he found the thought of two children "patrolling" _anything_ too amusing for words. "Ah. So that explains the drop in attacks in those forests."

Hisana chuckled into the sleeve of her Shihakushō.

"Hisana, if you wouldn't mind, would you escort me to the manor?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Hisana consented with an excited, "Yes, sir!"

The trek to Kuchiki Estate was very wet and very slippery. Hisana, however, could barely contain her enthusiasm. She had never been to the manor. Since Byakuya was stingy with descriptions, she had only her imagination to fill in the gaps.

When she arrived, she was _not_ disappointed. It wasn't anything like she had imagined. It was _way better_! Her whole face lit up like a firework, but she was mindful enough _not_ to express her amazement.

Vice Captain Kuchiki, however, had no trouble reading her. "It is excessive," he murmured on a somewhat sour note.

"I don't think so," she said in her usual ebullient tenor. "I think it's _perfect_." Oh, the stories that ran through her mind as she took in every corner and line of grain. It was breathtaking.

Sōjun managed a polite smile, and she had a sinking feeling that he did it for her sake. "Byakuya?" he called down a narrow corridor. Before he could get all the syllables out, a servant scurried forth. "Lord Kuchiki is not in residence, milord."

Sōjun's brows sprang up at this. "Oh?"

"Lady Shihōin called for him, and he accepted."

"He must have been desperate." A small quirk of a lip exposed Sōjun's amusement.

"Inconsolably so," the servant replied, stiffly.

"Very well," Sōjun murmured, "Hisana, if you wouldn't mind waiting," he began, but she immediately responded with a shake of the head.

"No, I don't mind, Vice Captain Kuchiki."

"Come, child." And, like that, Hisana was tucked into an immaculately appointed room. "We call this the golden hall," Sōjun said in the middle of a sigh. The Vice Captain always seemed to be speaking in the midst of a sigh. Hisana never quite understood why. She assumed that he had a great burden, and, given his health, he found the burden overwhelming. She would later discover that her Vice Captain was merely dissatisfied with the state of _things _in general.

"We call it the golden hall because—"

"—the western sun sets the room on fire?" Hisana couldn't help herself. She found the manor just so _exciting_. Oh, the adventures Byakuya must have exploring the sprawling and spacious structure. There must have been enough fuel to fill ten thousand imaginations! He was so lucky!

Sōjun lifted a brow at the girl's powers of observation. "Indeed, Hisana." With a quick motion, he pulled back the door. Rain fell like a curtain, but Hisana could still spy the lush garden just behind the sparkling water.

"It is so lovely!" No hesitation. She found herself at the edge of the room, seemingly pulled to the colorful flowers that beckoned her closer.

"There are drawing and calligraphy materials on Byakuya's desk with which you may entertain yourself until he returns."

"Thank you, Vice Captain Kuchiki."

Hisana gave a deep bow and took a seat at the desk, where she found _more_ than ink and brushes. She found _letters._ So many letters beautifully written and scripted letters. She lost all sense of time as she immersed herself in the sea of lovely words.

. . . .

Head pounding and lip weeping red, Byakuya kicked off his footwear before crossing into the manor. Every muscle burned, and he felt the familiar ache of frustration gnawing at his belly. Someday, he promised himself. He would place that devil in her place. That day, however, was not today. The Shihōin leader had decidedly schooled him in the way of kidou.

"Lord Kuchiki," his body servant greeted him. "You have a guest."

Immediately, his fingers unfurled from the ball that had formed at the thought of Yoruichi. "Oh?" he asked, hopeful. Usually, his hope was dashed when his "guest" revealed herself to be none other than Yoruichi. But, that wouldn't make sense today. Yoruichi wouldn't call him from his manor to harass him only to visit him at the estate a few moments later.

Which meant….

His heart swelled with the possibility that it was—

"Come, Lord Kuchiki. Your guest waits in your room."

Without hesitation, Byakuya was at the threshold to his room in an instant. He yanked the door back on its track, and his eyes flew to the desk. "Hisana!" he cried, excitedly.

She turned to face him, a sweet smile plastered to her face.

Then, reflexively, his eyes dipped down to the paper that she held balanced between her fingers. Shame and embarrassment swallowed him whole. His letters! The very ones that he could not summon the courage to send were at her disposal.

Immediately, he rushed to the desk and tried to pry the letters away from her.

"Wait!" she cried, releasing her grip in defeat.

"Why did—how could you—I don't—" He couldn't find the words. His mind was humming with thoughts. Too many thoughts. And, his body went cold, numb.

"They're beautiful," she interjected before he could continue with his half-thoughts.

He stopped. Dead. Wait a minute. Back up for a moment. She just called his letters "beautiful." Did he just hear that right?

His cheeks stung in a way he had never experienced before. Was he having an allergic reaction?

Realizing this opening, Hisana quickly explained herself. "They are so beautiful, Little Lord. Why didn't you send them?"

"I thought—you would—I-I-I—" There was no use. He was a stuttering mess. She confused him with compliments.

"I especially like this little guy." Hisana's fingers flew into a flurry of motion as she flipped through the pages until she found the hastily penned illustration. "Who is he?"

Byakuya leaned over her shoulder, eyes glued to the white sheet. Ah. Yes. She had found his poorly drawn character.

"He looks like an _ambassador_ of something," she said, tilting her head to the side as she scrutinized the curvy lines that made up the character.

"Seaweed."

"Yes!" she said, as if his word had unlocked a door to her mind. "He's an ambassador of seaweed!"

"The Seaweed Ambassador?"

"Yes! Of, course. He's the Seaweed Ambassador! It's so obvious now. Come." Hisana patted the floor beside her. "Let's give the Seaweed Ambassador a grand adventure."

_Every name demands a grand adventure_.

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><p><strong>End Notes:<strong> I may leave this one open just in case I get inspiration to add another chapter. Thanks for reading!


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